In Medias Res
by Saraisha
Summary: Harry finds out he has creature blood. A letter is delivered to his aunt the night of his seventeenth birthday that changes his life forever. HPDM pairing. Severus mentor.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter, or any other characters contained within his highly interesting adventures. I wish I did, but then, so do a million other people… -sigh-

Saraisha

Prologue

The cold room was barren of anything save the tall stone pedestal in the very center. Draco took one look at it and shied away. He wanted to get out as fast as possible. Looking around for the door, he was sorely disappointed; it had vanished like a wispy cloud on a windy day. He slowly turned on his heel to face the pedestal. It loomed in front of him, daring him to venture closer. He did. Taking long, deliberate steps, he made his way to the center of the chamber. Once there, Draco stood looking into the basin sitting on top. A glowing liquid shimmered faintly, reflecting his pale face. Draco dipped in one long finger and woke up.

Twenty-seven miles south of Draco's sweat-soaked bedroom, Harry Potter sat at a parchment-littered desk with his head in his hands. The moon was waning through the small window overlooking a quiet, lantern-lined streetHis Potions text lay open in front of him, and a half-written essay sat mockingly beside it. Harry sneered and threw his quill down. He stood and stretched before sidling over to sit down on his bed. The clock read 11:47. It would be his birthday in thirteen minutes.

The room felt cold, strange for July. Harry rubbed his arms and picked up a book, flipping through it absently. It was about mythical lore. Hermione had given it to him last Christmas, and he had not yet found the time to sift through its contents. Harry looked again at the clock. Six minutes. The chill picked up a little, and he searched the room for a jumper. There was one lying over the back of his trunk, and Harry shrugged it on. He sat back down on the bed.

At 11:58, Harry started to shiver uncontrollably. He looked around the room accusingly, searching for the cause of his discomfort. He picked up the blanket from his bed, and wrapped himself in its warmth. The last thing he remembered before slipping into unconsciousness was seeing the clock strike midnight.

* * *

Severus Snape sat at his desk; quill in hand, the ink drying on the tip. The letter he was drafting sat forgotten as thoughts coursed through his head and furrowed his brow. After a few minutes, he resurfaced and inked his pen. The letter on his desk was tossed into the rubbish bin, and the new one began with a sentence that would change the life of a seventeen-year-old boy forever:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am afraid that I have some very shocking news for you. It concerns the nature of your birth and parentage…_

* * *

Cold. Cold, like winter. Sharp like a thousand icicles and bitter as the wind. A frosty air shimmered in the bedroom as Petunia Dursley looked upon her nephew with growing dread. Even shutting the door, turning up the heaters and wrapping up in several sweaters could not keep it from seeping into her bones and making her very essence hurt. It was unnatural. The cold would last for seven hours and then be replaced by a heat so fierce that breath came in short, quick gasps and burned the lungs. It squeezed her body and wrapped around her mind so that coherent thought was impossible. It was unnatural.

Petunia closed the door as silently as she could, and made her way back downstairs. In her hand, she clutched a letter, creased almost beyond the point of recognition. It didn't matter; she had all but memorized its contents.

_"Dear Mr. Potter"_ it began,

"_I am afraid __that I have some very shocking news for you. It concerns the nature of your birth and parentage which I found myself both witness to and very well informed of. Your knowledge of the circumstances of your birth, are, I imagine, less than satisfactory and I find myself at liberty to inform you as I see fit. _

_Your mother, though she appeared to be of muggle parentage, was not what she seemed. She was a witch, born from a long line of pureblooded wizards thought to have become extinct in the 1700's. She was what is known as the rarest creature in all of Wizarding or Muggle culture: a Dæmon, and one of the last of her kind. She was an elemental, and could manipulate even the smallest flame or the slightest breeze to do her will. It is my belief that she passed the gene on to you. Dæmons are considered to be next to royalty in the Wizarding world, and have all but faded into a myth. I doubt even Ms Granger would find a book on them in the Library._

_Included in this letter _is_ a book you may find useful. It is under a highly intensified shrinking charm, and the activating phrase is "leis an lurgainn". I am available should you have any questions, Please owl me. I hope this letter has not found you too late._

_With regards, Severus Snape"_

Petunia had questions. Who was this Severus Snape, and why did he witness Harry's birth. What was a Dæmon. Why was Lily such an oddity and why did Petunia not know of it? She eyed the ebony owl with mistrust and fear. It ruffled its feathers and stared at her indignantly. It was high time she started a letter. Maybe this Severus could explain everything for her. Just maybe.

AN/ I love reviews… -nudge, nudge, wink, wink- Feel free to criticize, but only if it helps the story. If you just plain don't like it, don't read it. Simple as that.


	2. Albus, What Have You Done!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own _Harry Potter_ or any of the characters within its pages. I just like to play around with them a bit… -wink-

_Dear Mr. Snape,_

_My name is Petunia Dursley, and I am the aunt of Harry Potter. I am writing to you because I have several questions for you. Before I begin, I must apologize for not giving Harry your letter. He is currently in a state that renders him unable to read it._

_My first question is, what is a Daemon? I have never heard anyone talk about such a thing, nor have I seen that spelling before. Why were you witness to his birth, and why did my house become cold on the night Harry turned seventeen? I am getting worried for his wellbeing, and my own. I would appreciate it if you could take the time to write me back._

_Petunia Dursley._

* * *

Severus looked menacingly at the note. So Harry had not gotten his letter. That definitely put a damper on things. He should have sent it earlier, if only it hadn't been for the blasted twinkling old fool… His fists curled in anger at the thought. Severus could not imagine someone less interested in the welfare of the Boy Who Lived than that man. In fact, he'd even bet that Draco cared more about him. Or Lucius, for that matter.

But what did the cold mean? He could remember Lily saying something about it in seventh year. It had something to do with blood. If only he could remember. Perhaps he should pay the Potter/Dursley household a visit. He could talk to this Petunia, and check on Harry at the same time. There was no need to tell Albus, he'd find out sooner or later anyway. He always found out. Now, where was that bottle of scotch?

* * *

Petunia was startled out of her reverie by a knock on the door. She hastened a quick look at her son who was lying on the couch with a package of cookies open at his feet. He was too engrossed in the television to pay any mind to her antics. The knocking had become persistent. Wondering whom it could be, she unlatched the door.

"Hello, my name is Severus Snape. You, I assume, are Mrs. Dursley?" Petunia could only nod. She hadn't given herself much time to imagine the voice on the other side of the letter, but what ever it was, it hadn't been like this. He was dressed in black trousers and a black t-shirt. His shoulder-length hair looked unwashed and lanky. Was this the kind of person her sister had associated with?

"Yes, I am. Please, do come in." She cast a quick, worried glance at the state of her floors. She hadn't had time to wash them this morning. But then, judging by the state of his clothes and hair, he probably lived in dirt.

"So Harry did not get my letter." It was not a question.

"That's right. He's in his room right now doing God knows what. At least the cold has stopped. Pretty unnatural if you ask me—" Severus only stared at her.

"I see." His voice was pure disdain, although his face gave away nothing. "Tell me, Mrs. Dursley, when exactly did the cold start? Was it around midnight, at dawn?"

"Oh, midnight, definitely. I remember because I was lying in bed when the clock struck. At the seventh stroke – I count the strokes, you see – it just started to freeze! I could see my breath, and my hands started shaking. My feet were like icicles. Even Vernon woke up, and that only happens if there's something equivalent to an earthquake." If she expected him to be impressed, Petunia was sorely disappointed. It struck her that he might not know who Vernon was.

"Are you aware of what a Daemon is, Mrs. Dursley?" she shook her head "A Daemon is one of the fiercest creatures ever known to have crossed the earth. They were believed to have been created by the Devil, himself, and are what we call 'inferior divinities.' They are known for their blatant seduction of the human race. However, elemental Daemons, Eudaemons, are quite different. They roam the earth purging it of evil and are the opposite force to their darker cousins. They are considered to be amongst the most caring beings ever created; you might recognize the term as 'fallen angel.' Harry Potter, your nephew, is an elemental."

Severus finally remembered what Lily had told him about the cold. It was his spirit being cleansed, his emotions turning raw. When he woke, Harry would have one hell of a headache. The freezing of his body effectively turned off all of the living nerves in his body so that his blood could recognize the new magic. Lily had been in bed for days after it had finally stopped. Severus almost laughed as he recalled the look on James' face as he was denied access to her bedroom. It was a good thing life dealt out a few decent cards sometimes.

"If you would excuse me, Mrs. Dursley. I believe my purpose in coming here was to check on your nephew, so, if you would be so kind…?" He left the question dangling and it spurred her into motion.

"What? Oh, yes, of course. His bedroom is at the top of the stairs. Turn right immediately, and it's the second one from the loo."

"Thank you."

Severus made his way upstairs, cringing at the numerable creaks made by his feet. This house didn't look very old, how was it that the stairs were in such bad shape? Come to think of it, most of the floors creaked. Petunia was definitely not large, and neither was Harry. That meant that either her son or her husband, or even both, had to be very large indeed. Reaching the top, Severus turned right and was met with the sight of the loo. _Right, just two doors down, and…_ Merlin's boots. _This can't be Potter's room, can it? Not with… one, two three, four, five… seven locks on it! Albus, old man, I think you have made a very grave mistake._ Gingerly, he opened the door, and was surprised with the sight that met his eyes. The room was empty save for the parchment-littered desk and several jumpers thrown on the floor. But the bed, the bed was tiny. Not even big enough for a thirteen year old child, never mind a fully grown adult. And it was covered with a rag that could hardly be called even that.

"Dear boy, what did they do to you?" he whispered. He pulled back the—thing—that was covering Po—Harry, and almost gasped in shock. He looked like his mother.

* * *

"Albus, what have you done!" The headmaster peeked his head out from around the corner.

"What on earth do you mean, Poppy?"

"Severus just flooed in with Harry Potter, only he doesn't look like Harry Potter! And he looks starved half to death, and I swear to Merlin above that there are at least four bruises on his person that should not be there." Poppy ruffled indignantly and stared at her employer malevolently. If looks could kill, he would have been dead many a time before.

"Well, let me see him, by all means, and I'm sure I can tell you what the problem is." She looked at him, shocked.

"May I remind you, sir, that it is _I_ who is the infermière in this establishment, and _I_ who does the diagnoses. Severus was adamant that you not see him, and I would dearly like to know why." With that, she turned on her heel and marched back to the infirmary, a perplexed headmaster staring after her.

A/N: Yet again, I love reviews. I apologize for not updating sooner. School is incredibly hectic this year, with exams and whatnot. I will try to update more often, now that Christmas break is around the corner, but I can't promise anything. So sorry to have kept you all waiting.


	3. What In the World Am I?

Harry woke to the sound of low voices rumbling nearby. _That's strange_, he thought, _Uncle Vernon never rumbles and that voice is definitely male. I wonder where I am, then._ Tentatively, he opened his eyes and was met with the sight of the infirmary. The bed curtains were pulled closed on one side, shielding the voices from view. Harry reached for his glasses and began to panic when he couldn't find them. _Bugger, if I don't have my glasses I won't be able to see! Wait a minute, I can see. I'm not_ wearing _my glasses, am I?_ He felt his face and was surprised to find nothing there. All of a sudden, Harry felt unbelievably, inexplicably happy. 

"Harry, dear, are you awake?" The curtain was pulled open roughly by Madam Pomfrey as she began to poke and prod his body.

"Um, yes, I'm awake. I'm slightly confused, actually—ow!—um, perhaps…" he trailed off having spotted his Potions professor standing silently behind the Mediwitch. His hands were clasped behind his back and he looked as though he were fighting a smile.

"Hello Professor." Harry said quietly. Snape nodded to him in acknowledgement before reluctantly sweeping out of the room. Madam Pomfrey had finished adding her unnecessary bruises to Harry's person and was busy bustling about her potions cabinet.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, dear?" Shuffle, shuffle.

"What am I doing here?"

"Ah." She turned around holding a rather vile-looking, fluorescent yellow substance in her hand. "Tell me, Harry, did you get a letter before your birthday? From Professor Snape?" He shook his head. "No, well then I'm afraid I can't tell you anything at the moment. I can tell you that it's possible you will be here for the remainder of the holidays, but nothing more than that." She said, measuring out a dose of the putrid-looking potion.

"What does Snape have to do with it?" Harry asked. He hoped she wasn't going to feed the potion to him.

"You'll find that out later dear. Here, try and swallow this." She thrust a glass under his nose and waved it around, meaning for him to take it. He hoped it tasted better than it looked. He didn't feel much like vomiting.

* * *

Severus sank wearily into a plush leather chair and rubbed his eyes. Why did brats always have to be so difficult? He got up, stretched, and walked over to the cabinet. Pouring himself a tumbler of whiskey, he allowed his muscles to relax as he leaned against the wall and contemplated what he would say to Potter. He couldn't just spill it out. No, he would have to be subtle about the explanation. Potter's brain would likely haemorrhage if he blurted out the whole thing. But what to say? Should he just give him the letter and wait for the explosion? Should he sit him down and have a little heart-to-heart? Severus snorted at that thought. Imagine him and Potter having a decent conversation without ripping each others' hair out. It would be a miracle. No, he would have to do something subtle. Something that would insure his person staying intact and Potter's mental condition remaining as it was. Oh God. 

"What the fuck am I going to do."

* * *

Harry knocked hesitantly at the door to the Potions classroom. He hoped Snape was in there; Madame Pomfrey had told him next to nothing and he wanted to know why he was at Hogwarts. _She mentioned something about a letter that Snape sent... Maybe he'll let me read it. _He knocked again, a bit more firmly. Maybe he wasn't in. 

Just as he turned to walk away, the door opened.

"What do you want, Potter?" asked Snape. Slowly, Harry turned around.

"I was wondering if I could ask you a question, sir." Harry replied. With a gulp, he looked up into the face of the Potions master.

"Well, go ahead."

"What was in that letter that you sent me this summer?" He asked. "I never got to read it, and Madam Pomfrey was mentioning it, and she said to go to you, so I thought I could ask you and hope that maybe you'd --"

"Enough. Don't give yourself a heart attack, child. Come in, for Merlin's sake." Snape gestured inside. "Of what letter are you speaking?"

"Madam Pomfrey told me that you'd sent me a letter just before my birthday," he replied. "Did you?"

Severus sighed. Perhaps he should just give him the letter. "Yes, I did. It, uh… It's actually of some importance. Please, take a seat; this might take a while, you should get comfortable." He said before stalking off into his office.

Harry looked around. There was a leather chair in one corner and a lovely looking brown suede sofa over by the wall. Opting for the sofa, he took a seat and was surprised to find it rather comfortable. Who knew Snape had excellent taste in furniture? Harry squished further into the seat as he waited for Snape to come back.

"Tell me, Potter, what do you know of your parentage?" Snape asked as he walked back into the room.

"Well, I only know what people have told me over the years: That my dad's a-- well, was-- a pureblood and my mum was a muggleborn. But that's common knowledge, sir. Not many people don't know about my parentage," said Harry.

"Actually, Harry, you might be surprised." Severus sank down into his favourite leather chair and ran a hand over his eyes. "Not many people know, but I was one of your mother's closest friends. She told me things she hadn't even told James, your father. One thing she told me I'll never forget. In seventh year, she was missing from classes for a week. No one knew where she was; not even the headmaster. Do you know when her birthday was, Harry?"

"No, sir."

"January 30th. Right in the middle of the school year. Do you know what she was doing in that week of absence?"

"No, sir."

"She was cold." Harry's ears pricked up. "Viciously, viciously cold. Seven hours straight, she said." Now Harry was really listening.

"What kind of cold, sir?"

"The kind that chills you to the bone. The kind that causes the windows to drip condensation and the silver to ring. Lily said that it was so cold, she felt as though she were on fire." Harry sat back. That's exactly what it had felt like this summer. Right around the time of his birthday…

"Did you say this was in seventh year, sir?" His voice was quiet, his eyes gazing at the floor. Snape glanced at him sharply.

"I did."

"Did the heat come next, sir? Seven hours of it?" He looked into Snape's eyes. They were filled with understanding.

"Yes."

"What am I?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What am I? I know this isn't natural. I've been feeling strange ever since I woke up. I know I'm different because Ron never mentioned anything like this, and…" He trailed off. Silence ensued.

"A Daemon."

"…"

Severus sighed. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be.

"A creature, Harry. You are a creature. Here, this is a copy of the letter I sent. It… maybe it will help set the record straight." Snape handed over the letter. Harry took it and looked at it with trepidation. Did he really want to know what was inside? Very carefully, almost hesitantly, he opened it up. 

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I got a new computer and I had to fiddle around with the settings. It turns out I can't upload Pages documents. Took me a while to figure out. Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully the next update won't take as long.


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